Cleaning
by WorkWithMeHere
Summary: "So it's safe to assume there's nothing under the bed?" Things get left in the oddest of places.


**Disclaimer: Borrowed characters.**

Ponyboy muttered to himself. After spending his entire life with Sodapop, Pony had at least thought Darry would be able to tell who the messy one was. Everywhere Soda went a wake of destruction and clutter was left behind.

Despite knowing this, Darry had ordered Pony to be the one in charge of cleaning their room. For the second time in a row! Granted, Pony had been messier than usual lately, but nothing nearly up to Sodapop's standards.

Ponyboy slowly began the task that would undoubtedly take him the majority of the day if he did it correctly. He supposed he could shove everything to the back of the closet or under the bed, but with his luck Darry'd double check as soon as he got home that the cleaning was up to par.

Since it wasn't like Pony had anything better to do, he decided to give this room cleaning business the old college try.

Not knowing where to start, Pony began to make his way over to the desk; he was the one who used it most, so it'd at least be identifiable. However, half way there, he plan was led astray by a huge book lying on the bedroom floor. Pony ended up lying next to it. Biology. Blah, he always hated science.

Changing game plans, Pony concluded the logical thing to do was to make a clean path, so people could walk into their room without fear of becoming paralyzed via textbook.

It was interesting to see all the things they had accumulated over the past month or so now residing on their bedroom floor.

Pony grabbed the laundry basket that had taken place of an actual hamper months ago. Periodically stopping to smell the item in question, Pony ended up finding it necessary to go into Darry's room to borrow his basket as well.

Feeling thankful it was not his week to do the wash as well, Pony went back to his task of making the bedroom inhabitable.

After what seemed like hours, and was realistically more like thirty minutes, the floor was done. Ponyboy was ready to tackle the desk.

Thankfully, the drawers in Pony's desk were empty of clutter. They held neatly stacked paper, waiting to be written on, and pens and pencils. Having remembered what an ordeal emptying out his desk was last time, Pony was in a slightly better mood. Now all he had to do was disperse of the clutter on top.

He got to work, determined to finish the job quickly.

Three hours later when Darry got home, Ponyboy was relaxing on the couch.

"All finished?" Darry questioned.

"Spotless," Ponyboy confirmed. He was exhausted and couldn't wait for Sodapop to finish up with the chicken so he could eat.

"Clean the desk out?" Darry picked up the sports section of the newspaper and plopped down heavily.

"Yeah, and the closet."

Darry nodded his approval. "So it's safe to assume there's nothing under the bed?"

Halfway through rolling his eyes at the inquisition, Pony flinched. Damn. Under the bed.

His hesitation was enough to clue Darry in.

He let out a chuckle, "Get to it then."

Groaning, Pony sluggishly dragged himself up and into his bedroom. He heard Sodapop laugh at his misfortune and Darry claiming the shower.

Ponyboy resolutely began to drag out all the clutter that had mounted up under the bed.

He found a tennis ball, comic book, a library book he could have sworn he returned, and an empty pack of cigarettes.

And a bra.

What?

Ponyboy immediately let go of the offending item, wiping his hands on the jeans he was wearing.

Why would there be a bra under his bed? No girl had lived here in months, and Ponyboy figured his mother not to be one interested in as much lace and flowers as this one had.

Oh god. Now he was thinking of what kind of bra his dead mother used to wear. Disgusting. Shivering in repulsion, Ponyboy edged away from the bra.

Oh good god. Sandy. Soda's girlfriend. She left her bra. Here. Under the bed. Oh. Oh, wow.

Once again, Pony curses Darry for making him clean.

Pony also begins to wonder just how sanitary his sheets really are.

Had Soda forgotten he had a bed of his own in another room? A bed his little brother did not sleep on?

Ew.

The shower turned off. Simultaneously, Soda stuck his head into the room. "Dinner is served!"

Pony stared in disbelief. "Ew."

Soda looked surprised. "That ain't fair, you haven't even-," Soda spots what Ponyboy was actually referring to.

His eyes grow wide, he is momentarily frozen, his eyeballs flickering between his younger brother and the article of clothing. When the boys hear the bathroom door open and floor creak under Darry's weight, Soda jumps quite literally into the room and slams the door shut behind him.

Ponyboy considers the look on Soda's face. He should do the right thing. He should stand up and walk away, leaving Soda to take of the problem, and never mention it again.

Instead, Pony does the brotherly thing. He blackmails. And whines.

"In our bed?"

Pony has never seen Soda's face go so red so fast.

"Hush up!" he hisses, and knowing he rather have Ponyboy disgusted than Darry enraged, he reaches towards his pocket.

The brothers have done this before. Darry had come home rip roaring drunk and, once he was able to move without hurling, gave each of his little brothers five bucks to go along with the 'food poisoning' story he'd told their mother.

Soda scratched the car. He taken it out without permission and taken out a mailbox about a block or so away from their house. Soda gave Darry ten dollars to keep his mouth shut, and promised Ponyboy a new book, which he ended up getting Two Bit to swipe for him.

Even Ponyboy had been forced to pay up to keep his misdeeds under wraps. Two bucks to Sodapop and he wouldn't say a word to Darry about catching him walk by the DX in the middle of a school day.

But Pony didn't need money. He felt bad for having to take part of what was left over after the bills received a cut of Soda's paycheck.

"No money." Soda looked alarmed.

"Ponyboy, you have no idea how much shit I'll be in if Darry gets even a whiff of this."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. No one liked it when Darry was angry, and boy howdy this'd be one for the books.

Pony played his cards right. "I ain't cleaning our room for a good year, dig?"

Soda's face was a mixture of relief and distaste. "A year?"

Ponyboy glared.

He was about to argue his point when Darry called from his bedroom down the hall.

"Dinner ready?"

Flustered, Sodapop did the only thing he could. He agreed. "You're a pain in the ass, kid."

Once seated at the table Darry looked up from his plate. "Done with under the bed?"

Ponyboy smiled, "Actually, Soda offered to finish up."

Darry raised an eyebrow, "Oh, really?"

Soda flashed Darry a toothy grin and shoveled food into his mouth.

Pony smirked down at his mashed potatoes, when he realized one issue that hadn't been discussed.

"And he offered to wash our sheets."

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